


Hollow

by TimmyJaybird



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Joker, Anal, M/M, Omega Bruce, Omegaverse, Oral, Rimming, large amounts of smut that sort of vaguely has a plot somewhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:56:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3714037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce has never been comfortable with his status as an Omega, and while in his daylight life he has worked to have it overlooked, his night time adventures as Batman have forced him into extreme measures to make sure it goes undetected. But sometimes even the most thought out plans backfire- and as luck would have it, Bruce's hard work would fall apart in fornt of the one man who could never know exactly what he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been away from this pairing for far too long. It's good to be back.

Bruce grimaced as he moved through the manor, the dark hallways and ghostly rooms. Evening was falling, faster then he was ready for, and he refused to turn a single light on. His head had begun to ache earlier that day, had continued to worsen as he attempted to keep up with his day. Meetings had blended, paperwork blurred, and now, alone in the dark of his kitchen, fumbling for a glass of water, his stomach was adding to the problem, cramping. The pain left him feeling feverish.

Bruce drank down the small glass of cold water, let the chill damn near hurt his throat, and searched for some pain killers. He had wanted to be down in the cave suiting up a good half hour ago, but could barely bring himself to move. He felt heavy, like there were lead weights settled in his belly.

He cursed, downed the pills with another half a glass of water, and made his way to the cave, even if all he wanted to do was curl up in his bed for a good twelve hours.

Had Gotham been quiet lately, he might consider it. There were nights, from time to time, when the Bat didn’t need to make a showing. Though few and far between, they still existed. But fresh from a recent break from Arkham, the Joker had been nothing but a thorn in his side for the past few nights. When he had gotten word the clown had gotten out, he had hoped he might have a little time to prepare himself before the clown made an appearance and turned his nights upside down, hoped that the Joker would have taken a bit of time to get on his feet, get organized-

He should have known better.

The past few nights had been nothing but rooftop chases, explosions thankfully of more minor proportions, and the taste of blood between his teeth. He had a bruise along his side that was still a nasty purple, that ached when he bent just right- that he touched from time to time, as a reminder. As a promise.

A promise that each time he got close to the clown, it wouldn’t give them those hot shivers down his spine, wouldn’t undo something within himself he had worked so long to zip up safely, to tuck away from the world- form himself.

Bruce stripped down, began to suit up. His thigh itched vaguely where a clear patch was settled, pumping hormones into his system to keep his body in a fragile balance. He was upset that he had placed it nearly exactly where he had the previous month, not giving his skin time to breathe. But he couldn’t remove it now- he couldn’t afford to possibly disrupt the fragile state of his own hormones.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, his skull still feeling a few sizes too small. Then, taking a deep breath, settled his cowl into place anyway, and pressed a small button hidden on the wrist of his left gauntlet. For a brief moment he lost his breath, the overwhelming scent of Alpha pheromones bursting into the air around him, making him dizzy. The fever that he was so sure was caused from pain flooded into him, making his belly tight, his palms sweat.

He inhaled again, held his breath a moment, eased it out, took himself down from the high he got every time he put the suit on. In his daily life, he had contact with Alphas more times then he could count- but the sudden rush of pure hormones always knocked the breath from him.

And never ceased to remind him of his Omega status.

The patch on Bruce’s thigh itched again, and his stomach still felt knotted, but he could do nothing about either at this point. He told himself it was due to the fact that was he well over due allowing himself into heat- he already forced himself to go long periods of time without one, but as of late he had pushed it further and further back. Typically, he let himself go every three months- but forced himself to swallow hormone pills while locked away within his manor to shorten the duration. However, there had been an incident with Ivy the month prior, when he could have allowed his body to experience the brief cycle, and now with the Joker free, he was into month five of repression.

He knew it wasn’t healthy, that if he was going to take suppressants he should be experiencing heat every four to eight weeks. The range was large, but Omegas were all built so differently it was hard to narrow down how often it would happen until one grew to know their own body. But Bruce couldn’t stand it, hated the feeling of helplessness, the blindness that cast over him when all he felt was the emptiness of his body, the heat of his skin and blood.

And he couldn’t afford to be away from the streets that long.

*

Gotham’s night skyline was a pretty sight, lit up by the massive buildings, the street lights, headlights- the stars and moon faded into an obscurity, as if the city was bigger then the sky above. Oh, how the Joker had missed it, locked inside that tiny cell in Arkham for those long two months. He stretched his limbs out, curling his toes within his shoes, flexing his fingers and enjoying the tiny _cracks_ he heard. He rolled his neck, sighing, breathing in the cool night air, the smell of exhaust and rain from that morning.

The scent of gasoline lacing everything around him.

The Joker tapped his foot, fingers fumbling along the line of his pants pocket. There was a lighter inside, just waiting, waiting, _waiting_ to start a slow burn, to make love to the gasoline he had spread out along the junk cars lined perfectly up the street. The neighborhood wasn’t a bad one, and he had had to plant the cars himself- with help of course, to make sure he could get six lined up perfectly along the street. Close enough that each blast would ignite the next, like glowing dominoes.

He pulled the lighter from his pocket, tossed it a few times, watching it carefully, before he clutched it, took the few steps towards the first car, and held the flame along the gasoline soaked interior through an open window.

Within moments it lit up like _Christmas_ , and he was leaping back, laughing, the sound echoing up into the night around him. He hurried to make it up the fire escape of one of the apartment buildings along the street, wanting a bird’s eye view-

Wanting a clear waiting spot for his Bat.

After all, this was nothing more then a mating call.

*

Bruce heard the sirens before he saw the lights- but once he did, he moved as swiftly as his body allowed. Gotham’s rooftops felt more comfortable then any streets he had known, and by the time he was swinging down onto an apartment building directly above the blazes, he felt almost calm.

Until he heard laughter.

The Joker was standing center-stage, grinning at him in a magnificent sort of way, all red lips, his smile disorted by the red dragged up along his scars. His curls had been slicked back, and aside of sloppy lipstick, he appeared too damn put together.

Bruce was always far more unnerved when the Joker seemed _in control _. He preferred his disheveled curls in Arkham, when his finger nails were too long and jagged. When he looked the victim. It was easier then, to swallow his existence, to handle the very reality that he created in his tiny sliver of time and space.__

__“Just on _time_ , Batsy,” he called, beginning his walk towards Bruce. There was a skip in his step- there always seemed to be, around Bruce. “I knew you’d never stand me up.”_ _

__Bruce clenched his fists, inhaled sharply- and instantly regretted it. The Joker’s pheromones were thick in the air- attraction, desire, arousal turning him into a pool of rushing hormones, his body reacting without a care from his mind. In fact, he probably wanted it to drown Bruce._ _

__His stomach clenched painfully, more so then it ever did around any other Alpha. Something about the Joker always undid him, left him feeling light in the head, light in the vein, but heavy in his belly. He hated it, down to the hallows of his bones-_ _

__But he missed it when the feelings were gone._ _

__He gritted his teeth, gently tapped the button on his wrist against his side, and the Joker’s grin split into laughter, echoing out into the smoke-spiced air._ _

__“Oh Bats, this isn’t a _pissing contest _, unless you wanna play a little game of _mine is bigger than yours_.” He showed the whites of his teeth, and Bruce felt dizzy. His head ached again, made the corners of his vision hazy. But oh, it could be the smoke. He told himself so.___ _

____He ignored the heat under his skin._ _ _ _

____He couldn’t allow himself to think it was anything other then a reaction to everything except the Joker._ _ _ _

____Instead, he took his clenched fist and connected it with the Joker’s jaw. The clown stumbled back, reaching up to hold at his chin, laughing at he pinched- as he heightened the pain. “Cutting _riiiight_ to the chase Batsy baby- just the way I like it.”_ _ _ _

____When he moved, it was like he was smoke, Bruce was breathing him in, tasting his very existence in the air as the Joker threw his entire body into him, the full of his weight, body slamming Bruce towards the ground. Bruce stumbled, might have managed to stay upright- but the contact made his muscles go lax, turn to water, made his skin constrict. He was falling before he could react, hitting the roof with the Alpha rolling on top of him, grasping at him and pinning him down._ _ _ _

____“Where’s your spunk, Bat boy- where’s your _fire_?” The Joker threw his head back, laughing, rolling his hips into Bruce’s pelvis. His suit left him feeling none of the motion- but he _saw_ it, felt the pheromones the Joker released, the way they made his brain go to fire, the way they told his body _what it could feel like_._ _ _ _

____He pushed up, his hips moving into the Joker, begging for more, and suddenly the maniac was staring down at him, wild green irises devouring his pupils until there was no black._ _ _ _

____Bruce squirmed, tried to grasp beneath him at the roof, to pull away, back, anything. He needed this man to not be touching him, he needed him thrown off the roof, into the flames. He need space, air, _anything_._ _ _ _

____He felt himself getting wet, slick between his thighs, and it was far too real, what had been building in him all day. He wanted to swallow it down, will it out of existence._ _ _ _

____Not now._ _ _ _

____Not here._ _ _ _

_____Not with this man_._ _ _ _

____“Finally playing along?” The Joker asked, leaning down, pinning Bruce beneath his weight. His breath was warm, ghosted along Bruce’s chin, as his forearms rested on either side of his head. Bruce tried to thrash again, but the Joker felt like pure stone, unmovable, impassable. “You’ll like it, if you just _try it_ , Bats.”_ _ _ _

____Bruce pushed his chest up, trying to jostle the Joker’s hold, at least get into a sitting position, but while he moved, the Joker did not. All it did was remove the small bit of space he had. All it did was crash his mouth into the Joker’s._ _ _ _

____Bruce went past lip, had teeth against his mouth for a moment, and then the accident became a kiss, became the Joker holding him down and devouring his lips, aiming to bruise them. Bruce gasped into it, shook, tried to wrap his mind around a way to move-_ _ _ _

____But there was fire in his throat now, down into his ribs. It dripped into his belly, and when he got a hand free, all he did was clutch at the clown’s jacket. He kissed him back, out of pure instinct first, because it was what his body _told him to do_ \- the Alpha was there, filling that gap that his heat left him, easing his own scent into Bruce’s blood. Bruce’s nature told him _this was what he wanted_._ _ _ _

____Below them, one of the burning cars gave a ghastly crash of noises, followed by shouts as the fire department tried to tame the blazes. It shook Bruce, and through the fog he remembered what he was here for- _who this was_ \- and he was shoving, pushing with all his might, throwing the Joker off him and onto the roof. He pushed himself up, lunged at the clown, landed a blow to his gut and took his turn pinning him down. The Joker thrashed, then tilted his head back, exposing his pale throat and cackling._ _ _ _

____“Mmm Bats, you always play a har-d game.” He pushed his hips up to emphasize, and Bruce willed himself not to think about it- was so thankful he couldn’t feel much through the suit. Not that he was given much of the chance- the Joker was tangling their legs together, rolling them, and suddenly Bruce was losing his senses, thrashing in a tangled mess with the clown. His shoulder bashed down into the roof, shot sparks up through his neck. He heard the Joker give a rough gasp as Bruce elbowed him directly under his ribs-_ _ _ _

____Then Bruce’s head banged something uneven, something protruding out of the flat surface they rolled on like spoiled, bratty children- he didn’t take the time to figure out what, just knew his neck was screaming, his skull ringing. He lay dazed for a moment, on his back, as the Joker crawled over him again, settling on his hips and throwing his head back to laugh, a ghostly shape set in blues and reds from the night and the fire below._ _ _ _

____His laughing, however, lasted but a moment, ending in a weak note, as he chose to gaze down at Bruce, cock one eyebrow and study the man whose vision was swimming. Bruce half registered the look, tried to figure out what could possibly have gripped the clown’s attention-_ _ _ _

____And then he could smell it, taste it- or well, it’s lack. His suit had ceased releasing the Alpha pheromone as programmed, and instead gave not a single barrier to his natural scent. There were times that Bruce was able to nearly mask himself, such control he had learned over his body and his very nature- but not when he had put his heat off so long- not when it was begging to begin, when his body was ignoring the hormones from his patch and quite possibly about to throw him head first into one regardless._ _ _ _

____For a moment, the Joker couldn’t breathe. It was as if his lungs were frozen, filled with smoke that would not leave. His laughter died and he could not restart it- all he could do was stare down at his Bat, unable to ignore the sudden sweetness in the air._ _ _ _

____He knew it. Even if he had never been around an Omega before, his very nature would have told him what was beneath him. Without thought his own pheromones changed, altering to the realization and sweeping out like a warm blanket to settle over the man below him._ _ _ _

____“Why, Batsy, I’ll be damned- and to think, you had me fooled. All. This. Time.” One hand reached down, splayed on Bruce’s chest, over the ridges of his emblem, and stroked down carefully, along his belly. Suffocating in the last wave of pheromones, Bruce pushed up against that hand, felt his skull crushing down along his brain, his belly knotting up._ _ _ _

____There was no denying it. His heat was coming, and _fast_. He’d pushed his body to its limits, and now it didn’t seem to matter what hormones were seeping into his blood- he _needed_ it, and his body wouldn’t say no._ _ _ _

____That only made this position all the worse._ _ _ _

____The Joker stroked again, up now, past Bruce’s collarbone and to his neck, fingers playing at the tips of the cowl. Normally, too much unauthorized pressure would give a shock, but it seemed Bruce’s blow to the head had no only sent the pheromone system to hell, it had short circuited his cowl nearly entirely. Without it, it was just a mask, to be easily pushed up._ _ _ _

____Through the fire in his belly, he thrashed, but the Joker smiled more, inhaling deeply- openly shivering, and gripped it between deft fingers, shoving it up over Bruce’s head, letting it flop lifeless as skinned flesh behind him._ _ _ _

____For the first time, Bruce stared up at his nightmare without his Batman cloak. He was no better then naked in that moment-_ _ _ _

____Well, perhaps a little better off._ _ _ _

____The Joker grinned, wide and red with those white teeth of his, but he didn’t laugh. Instead he stroked his knuckles along Bruce’s cheek, seemed to be trying to memorize his face, even though Bruce was sure he’d seen it before._ _ _ _

____“If anyone had ever told me that, ah, _Bruce Wayne_ was dressing as a bat every night, why, I would’ve told them they deserved my cell in Arkham!” He leaned closer, inhaled, sighed as his breath rushed out. “They never talk about you being an Omega, little Bat Boy. Have you simply managed to pay everyone off?”_ _ _ _

____“Spend enough time trying to hide it, and you get good at it.” Bruce squirmed again, but the Joker held firm in his lap, squeezing his thighs tightly over Bruce._ _ _ _

____“You can never hide something from me _forever_ ,” the Joker whispered, “no matter how good you are at it, Batsy baby.”_ _ _ _

____He leaned closer, pressed his mouth to Bruce’s- but this was a bit calmer, like he was trying to suck something from Bruce- his sanity, his resistance, everything and anything- and Bruce was giving, because he _couldn’t say no_ -_ _ _ _

____Because, if he was honest about this night, about all the nights before it, he didn’t want to._ _ _ _

____“I highly doubt a roof top is a very, ah, suitable place for your heat, Bats- _y_.” The Joker kissed the corner of his mouth. “Maybe it’s time I take you home.”_ _ _ _

____Was Bruce delirious, or did the Joker’s voice sound _soft_?_ _ _ _

____Bruce knew he couldn’t just take the Joker back to the manor- couldn’t use him to ride through his heat. He’d never been with an Alpha, had never had anyone touch him during his heats- and that weighed heavy on him, made the fact that he had an Alpha on top of him, willing, ready, almost irresistible._ _ _ _

____“Tick-tock,” the Joker sang, leaning back, giving Bruce room to breathe. “Wait much longer and it’s gonna happen right here Bats. I can smell it on you.”_ _ _ _

____Bruce sucked in a breath, and then, knowing that when this was over, when his brain didn’t feel a fire, he’d hate himself, curse himself, damn himself- never want to be himself again._ _ _ _

____He nodded, consigning his fate._ _ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____The trip back to the manor had felt like agony- Bruce had been forced to let the Joker drive his bike- he was glad he had chosen to leave the Batmobile behind that night- had been forced to cling behind him, arms locked around his lithe waist, face pressed between his shoulders, against his spine. He’d put his cowl back on, but it felt useless._ _ _ _

____Thankfully, there had been enough commotions still putting out the fires the Joker had started for them to slip away, to get to the bike- and by the time they were on the roads to the Manor, there was no traffic. Not that there was ever much here- Bruce liked that his home was set back, away from the city._ _ _ _

____They left the bike out of sight, and Bruce walked stubbornly in front of the Joker- in full suit, directly to his front door. It seemed that bringing Gotham’s most wanted home was the worst he could do- why bother not using his own front door? Or maybe it was the pain in his head and belly, the ache in his thighs- the fact that his body was screaming. Had his heats always started with so much pain?_ _ _ _

____Whatever the cause, caution be damned._ _ _ _

____Bruce locked the door behind them, didn’t offer to turn on a light- simply moved, quickly, into the dark. The Joker followed, watching Bruce’s unsteady movements- and halfway up the stairs, when Bruce crumbled to one knee, feeling as if everything under his skin was water, he was there grasping one arm and helping him up, taking some of his weight as they moved._ _ _ _

____Bruce couldn’t push him away. He didn’t want to._ _ _ _

____Once they made it to the master bedroom, Bruce tore his cowl off, tossing it off towards a lounge chair. He took a deep breath, tried to work through his head how this would work- _could work_ -_ _ _ _

____He needed to call Alfred. He’d insisted Alfred take a little time to himself- although they had only agreed on two days- and he would be back tomorrow evening._ _ _ _

____“Whatever you’re thinking,” the Joker whispered behind him, reaching up and touching where his cape clasped onto his suit, “it can _wai-t_.” He undid the clips, tugged the fabric away and left it on the floor, and Bruce began to push pieces of his suit aside, off. He should have done this in the cave- but there was no way, even in this state, he was bringing the Joker there- and wasn’t sure he could wait anyway. He was fumbling already, biting at his lower lip to keep quiet._ _ _ _

____Between his thighs, he was wet._ _ _ _

____He began tossing bits of his suit, not caring where they landed- he would track everything down when this was over. Besides, it needed repairs now. Lots of them._ _ _ _

____The Joker didn’t offer to undress him- nor did he reach to do more then the initial removal of his cape- he knew better, knew the suit was rigged. He gave Bruce at least the peace of removing his own skin. He was thankful for that._ _ _ _

____Once the suit was gone and Bruce stood in nothing but his underwear, he finally turned, staring down the man in the dark, a black silhouette against the shadows against his door._ _ _ _

____The air seemed to hum between them, something alive, pulling tight. Bruce felt it in his chest, felt his skin prickling. He wanted to be touched, everything in his body was screaming for it- but that it should be this man, this _freak_ to do it? To see him at his absolute lowest- well, what a sick joke of fate’s._ _ _ _

____The Joker didn’t say anything, just took a step towards Bruce, inched closer until their chests were grazing, and he was leaning along his neck, inhaling, tasting him in the air. For a moment Bruce was tense- the cramps in his belly, that hot knot reaching back and grasping his spine, peeling bone away to get to his raw nerves._ _ _ _

____And then something was washing over him, and he knew it was the Alpha’s doing. He was trying to calm him, to nearly still the caged bird within his ribs._ _ _ _

____“I can taste your heartbeat,” the Joker murmured, letting his lips graze Bruce’s neck. “ _Hush_. Don’t make me sing you a lullaby, Bat boy.” His hands found Bruce’s waist, touched the fevered skin gently, held him in place as he kissed just under his chin. “How do you normally do this, pretty boy?”_ _ _ _

____Bruce swallowed, all too aware that, even tho he was hot, the Joker felt warm- that his warmth seemed to balance everything, made Bruce feel like his own fire was _normal_. He had no answer- couldn’t admit he had never had anyone during his heats- couldn’t admit how long it had been. All he could do was close his eyes, let whatever spell the Alpha seemed to be settling over him take affect. He began to calm, slightly, and the Joker’s hands squeezed his waist._ _ _ _

____One more kiss to his throat, and he was being led to his bed, eased down onto it, and the Joker- still fully clothed- was crawling over him, settling between his legs to lay along his body, to seek out his mouth and kiss him in an almost lazy fashion._ _ _ _

____It wasn’t what Bruce expected. Slow wasn’t part of the dance. But it was making the knot in his stomach ease, the heat under his skin tolerable. And when one of the Joker’s hands reached up, tangled in his dark hair, tugging gently, Bruce pushed his hips up into him, ground against him for a sweet friction that left him gasping into the clown’s mouth._ _ _ _

____The Joker’s other hand was running along his side, to the hem of his underwear, finger tips slipping just beneath it. Bruce’s belly tightened, once, a small convulsion of need, and his own hands found the Joker’s hair, sinking into the neat, slicked back green curls, undoing the image of control as he tried to devour the Alpha’s mouth, pressed his tongue past red lips, tasted a mouth like candy._ _ _ _

____They rolled slightly, the Joker’s hand untangling from Bruce’s hair to instead clutch around his shoulders, holding him close as they kissed. His other hand pushed past Bruce’s waist band, over warm skin, grasped at the base of his hard cock, and gave him a gentle squeeze. Bruce mewled, gave a soft tremble as the Joker began to stroke him, as he blew on the kindles of his fire._ _ _ _

____Bruce could barley breathe. The touch felt like too much, like someone was pouring acid inside his skull. He tried to breathe and couldn’t, sucked in air and buried his face under the Joker’s chin. The man’s arm around his shoulders tightened, hand squeezing his shoulder as he hushed him. “Take a deep breath, Batsy,” he whispered, the sing-song rhythm of his voice sounding more like a lullaby. Bruce did, inhaled the calming pheromones the Joker was triyng to feed him. When he exhaled, his trembles calmed-_ _ _ _

____But when the Joker stroked again, he openly groaned, opened his lips and mouthed at the man’s neck. He sucked pale skin, squeezed his eyes shut and let his teeth graze flesh as that hand moved in a way Bruce never knew- as if the Joker already knew what Bruce liked, how he’d be touching himself right now were he alone. Like he had a map of every nerve inside his body._ _ _ _

____Bruce felt a light sweat on his spine, felt hot within his skin- not quite burning, but still overheated. He tilted his head back, tried to find cool air, and instead found a mouth, waiting lips, eager tongue. The Joker kissed and kissed, took and took and _took_ until Bruce couldn’t breathe and the knot in his belly was so tight it ached, burned. One more stroke of the Joker’s hand, and Bruce was crying into his mouth, shuddering as he came until he was breathless._ _ _ _

____The Joker kissed him through it, sharp teeth and knowing tongue and _those red lips_ , kissed him until Bruce was going limp, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling above him. For a moment, the burning fire beneath his skin cooled, the fog in his brain clearing. His belly still felt heavy, but he didn’t feel a total stranger within his skin._ _ _ _

____And in that moment, the exhaustion of the day, of his lack of sleep lately, crashed in. His muscles felt weighed down with every step he had ever taken, and he was suddenly so sure he would never move again._ _ _ _

____He heard the Joker moving, then felt him stretch out next to him, fitting into the curve of his body. One arm draped over him, stroked the muscles along his side, as he leaned in, kissed just below his ear. Bruce closed his eyes as the Joker nudged his nose against him._ _ _ _

____“Go meet your dream maker, Bat boy. Tomorrow, ah, you might not get the reprieve.” He squeezed him again, and Bruce knew it was no threat- just the truth. Whatever he had felt today, whatever they had managed to stave off, would come full force with the morning- or sooner, if fate felt such ill will for him._ _ _ _


	2. Chapter 2

He slept, on and off, with Bruce’s heat against his body like a small inferno. Like he could hold the countless fires he started, caress their very core and not face the bite of their desire. The Joker was enthralled, couldn’t bring himself to pull away from _his Bat_ \- from the man he had chased for what felt like an eternity.

When early light began to creep in through the part in Bruce’s curtains, the Joker enjoyed the way it cast shadows on the sleeping Omega- the hues it gave his skin, his dark hair. He dared to stroke back a few stray locks, enjoyed the happy sigh the man gave as he continued to sleep- a sleep so precious, as it would be interrupted for the remainder of his heat, the Joker was sure.

He knew what heat looked like- and the night prior was just the tiniest glimpse, a little taste.

Bruce shifted, was turning away from him, and the Joker kissed between his shoulder blades. The Omega stirred, stretched- seemed to stiffen for a minute, before the Joker’s hand trailed down along his belly, over sensitive flesh, as he eased him openly with his scent.

“I half expected you to slit my throat while I slept,” Bruce whispered, not moving the Joker’s hand as it splayed just below his navel.

“Why Batsy,” he whispered, inhaling his warmth, “that would be _no fun_ at all. You know I like you alive, and, ah, _breathing_.” He kissed his neck, once, as Bruce shifted again.

“I feel hot,” he whispered, and knew it was stupid to even say- of course he did. And of course the Joker’s hand on his belly had his body waking up far too quickly. He was just glad he hadn’t woken up grinding down into his mattress and biting his pillow.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, while we can.” The Joker was moving, pulling from Bruce and standing. The Omega rolled onto his back, noticed the man was still fully clothed- even still had his jacket on. He felt so exposed now, with just the cotton of his underwear and his fevered skin. Still, when the Joker extended a hand, Bruce took it, stood and continued to clutch that hand, leading the clown towards the bathroom attached to the master bedroom.

He chose to not watch the Joker undress- but to turn on the shower, to strip himself and step under the water, trying to separate himself. For the moment, he could think- and he could consider just how insane this whole thing was- what had he been thinking, bringing the Joker here, to his home, giving himself up in such a way-

He’d never be able to explain it to anyone-

_And Alfred was still coming back that evening_.

When the Alpha stepped in behind him, sliding the glass shower door shut, he didn’t touch Bruce. He was _there_ , Bruce could smell him, could feel his presence, but the man didn’t make contact. He stared at the muscles on Bruce’s back, the curve of his spine, took in naked flesh and the water that clung to it, as if this would be the one and only time he would ever be allowed to see it.

Everything had to be committed to memory.

It was a good thing his memory was vast, endless.

Finally, after what felt like the entirety of a life, he pressed closer, up along Bruce’s back, fit into the curve of his spine perfectly. It scared Bruce that they fit like this- but he should have known. From the countless nights where fist met ribs, teeth- every spot on the clown’s body seemed to mold perfectly to his fist, and the bruises the man always gave him in return- why, they complimented his skin divinely.

Bruce felt the Joker reaching around him, sliding wet fingers along his chest and belly, pressing his mouth to his neck. Something about it was...relaxing, and Bruce was sure it shouldn’t have been. But he could melt back into the man, close his eyes and let the water and the clown trap him, let the Alpha trace little patterns through the water on his navel- let everything slip away.

It was so close to being enough to take away from the fact that he was beginning to feel dizzy, hot. That the next wave was starting.

The Joker was whispering something, Bruce wasn’t sure what, but caught the end, “-help you relax. It’ll make everything else easier.” Bruce nodded, silently, didn’t trust his mouth to open- didn’t trust himself to not ask the man to touch him more intimately, to stoke the fire in his belly until he was engulfed, burning alive.

Until he had all but burnt to death.

By the time they were stepping out, Bruce felt so feverish he was trembling. He fought them down, but clung to the Joker- kissed at his neck as the man tried to turn him, to rub a towel over his shoulders, down along his spine. Bruce arched, exposed his throat, wanted lips and teeth and whined when none were given.

The Joker chuckled, low in his throat, and kissed the end of Bruce’s clavicle. “Patience is a virtue, pretty boy,” he whispered.

That was easy for him to say- his body wasn’t turning against him, wasn’t screaming to be fucked a damn near inch from death.

The Joker was running the towel along Bruce’s thighs when his knuckles brushed the clear patch settled there. He paused, running his fingers over the smooth spot, and Bruce shivered- wanted him to inch higher up, to grasp him and stroke him like he had the night before-

Or sink knuckle deep into him.

He tugged gently on the edge, easing it from Bruce’s skin with a soft _tsk_ sound. “Batsy, Batsy, Batsy. You’ll have to, ah, ex-plain later why your patches aren’t working.” He left Bruce, tossing it in the wastebasket and then smacking his ass playfully. Bruce yelped, face reddening, and the Joker laughed- rich and fluid and _so familiar_.

“Loosen up tight ass,” he teased, taking Bruce by the arm to guide him, naked but at least dry, back to the bed. He shoved him down, then crawled over him, straddling his hips and staring down with his too-green eyes-

And his naked face.

Bruce hadn’t noticed the paint wash off in the shower, hadn’t focused on his face. But now, staring up at him, there was no way to miss it. The Alpha was still pale, but there was a tinge of pink now. His scars stood puckered against his otherwise handsomely set face, the perfect alignment of bone that made Bruce’s stomach flip. Framing him, his green curls were wet and free.

He was like a half finished painting.

He was the first glimpse of bone on a fresh wound.

He was something strange and perfect, and Bruce’s belly was tight from it- not from the the ache in his body for stimulation, but the _rawness_ of his man being here, down to his flesh and blood and bone. Open in a way he could never be under the Gotham skyline.

The Joker cocked his head, shifting his hips, bringing Bruce from his trance. “Distracted pretty boy?” he asked, lowering himself over him, closing in until Bruce could only breathe him in, could almost touch his mouth. “Am I too horr-ifying?”

Bruce reached up, sank his fingers into wet curls and pulled him closer, kissed his mouth eagerly, arching against him so there was no denying he was not horrified but _aroused_. “No,” he breathed, the only word he could manage, and then his mouth was devoured, the Joker fighting back, the two of them rolling on the bed. Bruce pinned him down, grinding their hips together- gasping when the Joker’s erection dug against his own, shivering as nails raked down his back. Without much thought he spread his thighs more, arching, wanting those fingers down, down, _down_ , needing something to drive into him.

He was slick, he would be dripping soon- and suddenly, skin on skin causing such a fire in his brain, he was beyond caring. The Joker grinned against his mouth, broke the kiss and leaned up slightly to reach Bruce’s hips, guiding him up, up, up, to straddle his ribs. Bruce arched as those fingers found his ass, grabbed flesh roughly, leaving small red crescent moons behind.

When two pressed past the flesh, put pressure on his hole, he groaned, let his mouth fall open as the Joker traced it, teased slowly.

“Killing me,” Bruce muttered, and the Joker laughed, tossing his head back into the pillows. His mouth seemed so different now, pulled into that distorted smile, without scarlet to adorn it- his scars far less intimidating. He was still chuckling as those two fingers pushed into Bruce’s willing body, left the man giving a loud cry.

“Good,” the Joker murmured, shifting, kissing at Bruce’s thigh as his fingers worked in and out of him, soaked to the bone already and only making him harder. He wanted Bruce belly down on the bed, pinned beneath him. Wanted to drive into him until his Bat was sobbing for him, begging, pleading, admitting all the things he denied on the rooftops of the city during their usual dance.

Wanted to fuck Bruce until he loved him.

Bruce was riding his fingers, rocking with them, one hand reaching into his own dark hair and tugging, as if he needed some sort of pain to balance out his sensations. The Joker’s other hand grabbed his hip, nails gently digging into his skin. Against his thigh, he whispered, “Do you want another, Batsy baby?” The Omega nodded, sucked on his lower lip as the Joker eased a third finger into him, stretched him pleasantly, more so then Bruce could get himself. The Joker was already deeper inside him, pressing nerves Bruce could only brush upon when alone.

The clown grinned into skin, kissed and nipped Bruce’s tender thighs, before expertly curling his fingers, seeking out Bruce’s pleasure spot and leaving him crying out. The Omega’s head jerked back, his breath rushed out, and the Joker grinned more. He arched his neck more, managed to trace his tongue along the under side of Bruce’s cock- and when he got to the head, when he sucked it between his scarred lips, this time Bruce nearly screamed.

He couldn’t think, could barely breath. Everything was on fire- his belly and head didn’t ache but they were _tight_ , and each swallow of his cock left him _so sure_ he was going to cum, so sure the sensations couldn’t possibly build more then they had. Yet somehow he didn’t, not until the Joker was massaging that point inside him, taking him to the back of his throat, filling the air with his own desire- pheromones of want, but yet of ease.

Trying to calm Bruce.

Because this was safe.

When there was no way in hell it should be.

Bruce’s lips moved, trying to speak, to tell the Joker he couldn’t take anymore, but all he had were moans, were filthy sounds that should have come from an animal. All he had was a stuttering gasp and his head was thrown back, his cock spurting into the clown’s mouth. Once his orgasm had subsided he went limp, pulling from the clown’s mouth and gently collapsing off of him, onto the bed beside him. Bruce was panting, his cheeks flushed, opened his mouth to say something-

But the Joker was licking his lips, giving him no chance. He shoved Bruce over, onto his belly, and moved behind him, shoving his hips up. For a moment Bruce tore entirely in two- his body thrilled, screaming, needing to be fucked until he was nothing but a broken man. Needing more, always more.

And his mind screaming because no one _had_ ever fucked him, and during his heat- he was sure it’d kill him. He wanted it but he was terrified.

He didn’t know if his scent gave away his terror, or if the Joker had never planned in that moment to fuck him, but the man instead parted flesh and pressed his tongue to Bruce’s hole now, lapping up the slick that drenched him. Bruce cried out, in shock and a burst of pleasure, pushing back, arching his ass up higher, enjoying the way the Joker’s hands always seemed to grip his hips, seemed to hold him. Always touching, clutching- needing and giving.

Bruce felt his brain damn near shattering.

The Joker’s tongue traced his hole, pushed inside, brought his cock back to life in seconds. Bruce’s hands scrambled along the bed, clutching at the sheets as he writhed- until finally he slipped one beneath him, back to grasp his own cock and stroke. The Joker’s mouth vibrated- from a laugh or a groan he’d never know- and those fingers nearly bruised his hips. Bruce’s strokes were hurried, jerky- not off the high of his first orgasm, the other was _right there_ already, and he was desperate, wanting it so badly.

Another push of the tongue, and he was squeezing his cock as what was left in his body spilled over his knuckles, as he bit his pillow to fight back a scream. The Joker licked him through the orgasm, until Bruce was whimpering and collapsing back to the bed, nothing but a trembling mess.

This time, the Joker crawled back up his body, lay down on his back to stare up at the ceiling. Bruce didn’t move at first, wanted to curl up on himself, needed suddenly so badly to be wrapped up in something, to hide. He felt almost like a child.

After a few moments the Joker reached for him, nearly dragged Bruce over to him, allowing the man to curl up against his side. Bruce didn’t fight it, found a spot on his chest and settled his head, which was buzzing with faded static. The Joker felt warm to him, despite that he was always hot during his heat- it seemed the orgasms had satiated him for the moment tho, which Bruce was thankful for.

The Joker’s arm curled around him, squeezing his shoulders, nails grazing skin lightly. Bruce wanted to say something- to thank him for it, but he didn’t have the words. Instead, all he said was, “That wasn’t very fair to you.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then the Joker was laughing, the rough cackle of his that swelled from his chest, that filled the room to the point of suffocation. From his point on the man’s chest, feeling the deep vibrations, Bruce liked it.

When all was said and done, he would need to get himself evaluated.

“Relax pretty boy. I deal with qui-te a bit of, ah, _frustration_ with you on a nightly occurrence. I think I can handle _this_.” He waved his hand, then caught Bruce’s chin before he could try to look down, tilting it up instead. “Besides, your heat’s not the first I’ve experienced. What’s fair to me isn’t, ah, a priority.”

Bruce pushed himself up, looking down into those green eyes, feeling like the Joker looked _younger_ without his makeup. The clown was smiling over Bruce’s confusion.

“What? Is it so strange that I might be _appealing_ to someone who isn’t desperate, Bat boy?” Bruce pressed his lips together, saying nothing. He _should_ say that, yes-

But he was appealing to Bruce then, and he wasn’t desperate- no, for the moment, satiated.

He was appealing so many nights, Bruce simply built endless excuses for it. Ignored the fact that he’d want to be under the Alpha for so long.

“Who?” he finally asked, and the Joker shrugged a shoulder.

“Does it matter to you, pretty boy? It’s over anyway. There’s only room in my chest for your batarang.” He winked, reaching his free hand into Bruce’s hair and tugging him down for a kiss. Oddly soft, almost too sweet, Bruce melted into it, his chest tightening. He wanted to be kissed like this, every morning, every night.

Wanted someone to be tender with him. What a joke that the only one who was happened to be the same man who tried to break every bone in his body.

Bruce felt the Joker’s tongue trace the seam of his lips, gently, and opened his mouth, eager to yield to him. His own tongue slid against the Joker’s, his arm reaching over the man, clinging to him as he rested on his chest still. Without thought, Bruce rocked his hips gently against the Joker, thinking if he kissed him like this long enough it wouldn’t matter if his heat flared or not- he’d want him.

That was terrifying.

But the man was pushing Bruce away gently after a moment, choosing to kiss the corner of his mouth, his jawline. “You should eat something,” he whispered, “while you can. Odds are your next wave will hit soon.”

Bruce wanted to protest, but didn’t. He simply rolled away from the man, standing, walking across the room to find something to wear. The whole time, he felt the Joker’s eyes burning into him, green acid, the things of nightmares and wet dreams.

“And I thought your suit flattered your ass,” he mused from the bed, cracking a grin. “I couldn’t imagine it in its natural state.”

Bruce had just opened his closet and was reaching for a shirt. He meant to grumble, but he was grinning as he tore it from the rack, chucking it across the room to land along the Joker’s shoulder and part of his face. The clown erupted in laughter, contagious- and Bruce was laughing next, turning away to try and hide it, to compose himself.

He’d never felt like this before.

Like whatever the clown was feeling, they were seeping directly into him.

Like he was an open book, and each page turn left more and more of the Joker’s finger prints under his skin.

When Bruce looked back the Joker had stood up, had the dark blue shirt on and open. Bruce’s cheeks flushed and he looked away, trying to not study him. Trying to push down the butterflies in his stomach.

*

Finding something to eat hadn’t been a problem, but trying to focus on it had been hard. Bruce felt acutely aware of every movement the Joker made, every look. He couldn’t tear his mind away from the thought of the Joker with someone- someone wanting him during their most vulnerable time.

Had it been a reoccurring thing? Had there been a relationship? _Was he bonded once?_

Bruce couldn’t tell. He was good at reading others’ pheromones, just as he was good at hiding his own. But the Joker- he couldn’t tell if there was that jagged feel, that missing piece a broken bond left. He seemed smooth, too smooth, too much and too right and-

Bruce leaned against the counter, forcing himself to swallow water from his glass. He was getting hot again, fidgety- if he focused on the man too long, he’d fall back into his heat even faster.

It didn’t help that the Joker was prancing around in Bruce’s shirt, in Bruce’s boxer briefs, in everything his except his very own skin. Something about knowing the smell of his skin would be on it later, that left Bruce’s pulse racing.

Knowing there was almost a mutual ownership about it, that made his stomach flip.

Trying to control himself, Bruce set his glass aside. “Can you bring me my phone?” he called, and the Joker looked up from the small glass table he sat at, then glanced over where Bruce had been sitting. He grabbed the phone, sauntering over with it in one extended hand, the other balancing a half full glass of orange juice. Bruce took it, scrolling through his contacts, knowing if he didn’t call Alfred now he wouldn’t- and the man would walk into an utter catastrophe.

“Calling in a friend?” the Joker asked, swirling his glass and grinning over it. “Because I didn’t sign up for a threesome.” He took a sip as Bruce rolled his eyes.

“If I don’t tell Alfred not to come in, he’ll walk right in on...” Bruce trailed off, blushing, and the Joker giggled.

“Don’t want your little Jeeves catching you with your pants down, Bat boy?”

Bruce frowned, lifting a finger to his lips to hush the Joker. The clown didn’t really listen to whatever lies Bruce fed the man, he instead took another sip of his drink, before setting it on the counter. Once free he leaned in, too close to Bruce, toying with one of the few closed buttons on his shirt. Bruce frowned, unable to say anything as the Joker popped it open, smiling to himself as he traced a finger up what skin was revealed on his chest.

He glanced up through green curls, caught Bruce’s eyes for just a moment, then wordlessly dropped down to the floor in front of him. He pushed his shirt up, his other hand grasping at the waistband of his underwear- the only two pieces of clothing either man was wearing- and tugging it down, over his half-hard cock. Wordlessly, soundlessly, the Joker grasped it, ran his tongue along it, staring up at Bruce right in his dark eyes, holding them.

He didn’t look away when he swallowed him.

Bruce’s mouth was slack, his eyes wide as he watched the man’s head bobbing. The Joker registered that Bruce had stopped speaking, but could hear a faint voice over the phone still. Smiling as best he could- tugging his lips around Bruce’s cock, disfiguring the scars on his cheeks, he gave a small throaty moan and grasped one of his thighs, squeezing as he took him in, in, _in_ until he was nearly gagging.

Bruce whined, his voice bteaking, and the Joker distinctly heard, “Master Bruce? Are you alright?”

“I’m f-fine,” he stuttered, and the Joker nearly lost himself to giggles over it. He liked the way Bruce’s voice was, as he was coming undone. Perhaps too much. “Just don’t feel well. I h-have to go- _oh_.”

The Joker was swallowing him to his throat again, bobbing his head faster, and Bruce was nearly panting. The clown didn’t watch him end the call or nearly slam his phone on the counter- simply looked up to see him clutching at the counter, white knuckled, his chest rising and falling rapidly-

But his eyes watching, unable to tear away. The Joker liked it that way, liked having Bruce stare at him like he was a fucking work of art _simply burning_.

He squeezed Bruce’s thigh again, and that seemed to trigger something. Bruce’s hips started moving more, rocking with the Joker, until he was tipping his head back, a wordless whine-moan escaping him as his seed spilled along the Joker’s throat- which worked around Bruce’s cock to swallow. When he pulled back, his mouth still half full, Bruce caught a glimpse of him swallowing the rest, licking his pale lips as his pupils all but disappeared into those green irises.

“I think,” he whispered, “it’s, ah, time to get you back to bed, pretty boy.”

*

When Bruce registered his face being pressed into his pillows, his underwear being torn off, he realized he had lost the brief time it took to get across the manor, to his room- the time it took to fall to the bed. He was alive with fire, he was too hot and his shirt felt like it was clinging to him like a second skin- but the Joker was digging nails into his ass, biting at the base of his spine, then tearing at the shirt- ripping buttons and tugging it off Bruce from behind, throwing it to the floor.

He leaned over Bruce, lapping at the sweat along his spine, shivering at the heat. Bruce was dizzy, registered the feeling and was crying into his pillow- his orgasm in the kitchen seemed to have jump started this wave, and he was becoming delirious- needing something but being so terrified.

He wanted the Joker to fuck him, fuck him until he melted into the bed, until he was sore- until he couldn’t walk, couldn’t move. Wanted the Alpha’s knot stuck inside him, his teeth in the back of his neck- wanted to be owned for the brief amount of time he could allow himself to be.

But it was new, terrifying- and Bruce wasn’t sure if he could truly let himself go enough for it.

The Joker dug his teeth into Bruce’s shoulder, rutting against him, still half dressed. Bruce felt his cock through the thin cotton layer, digging against his ass, slick soaking through. Bruce went rigid, tense as they rocked together, once.

“Wait,” he tried to say, but his voice was muffled by the pillows, by the half of him that didn’t want the Joker to wait. The clown didn’t hear him, moved back down his body and grabbed his ass again, parting flesh and pressing his mouth to it. He lapped at Bruce, enjoyed that his heat made him taste so sweet he was sure he’d be ill. He pushed his tongue inside him, felt Bruce shake, and then pulled back, replacing it with two fingers. He curled them, and Bruce arched his back, felt the Joker rubbing his spine.

He added a third finger, and Bruce’s vision went out for a moment. His cock was achingly hard, leaking between him and the sheets, and he was sure he could claw his skin off in that moment.

When those fingers pulled away, when he heard the rustling of clothing as the Joker tore it off, his heart began to race. Beneath the want, he was screaming, screaming at himself that this couldn’t happen. That there were limits, that this was crazy- but he was beyond the point of crazy he knew, he had let this clown into his home, into his bedroom- all that was left was his body-

But what of his mind and heart? Had they already been conquered?

The Joker was back, rocking naked hips against Bruce- his erection hot as Bruce’s skin, the head pushing against his slick hole, beginning to stretch it. Bruce clawed at the bed in that moment, panic over taking desire, and pulled himself away, shaking his head.

“Stop,” he whined, through his quickened breaths, turning and tangling in the sheets. He pressed back against the headboard, as far from the Joker as he could get. His eyes were wild, wide, terrified- and the Joker could only stare, left naked and kneeling.

“Stop?” he asked, as if Bruce’s words were in another language. Bruce nodded, and the Joker slumped, settling on the bed. One hand raked back through his curls, the other twisting in the sheets as he ignored the throb in his cock, the desire to bury himself to the hilt in the Omega who _smelled like sex and heaven_.

“I- no one has...” Bruce started, then shook his head, looking worse for wear then he did on a normal night after patrol. “No one’s fucked me before,” he finally blurted, cheeks red, breath rushed. He was still so painfully aroused, and it was hard to think of the words he needed- to not roll onto his belly and beg the Joker to take it back, to ignore him, to fuck him senseless.

The clown studied him for a moment, as if gauging if he spoke the truth, then was reaching out, holding out on delicate hand, long fingers enticing. Bruce hesitated, then reached out, took it, allowed himself to be guided closer, crawling like a child. The Joker cupped his face, leaned down to find his mouth and kissed him- sweetly, softly, enough to knock the wind from Bruce’s abused lungs.

“Hush,” he whispered, running fingers through Bruce’s hair. “I won’t then.” He kissed the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his pulse point. Bruce shivered, tried to clutch at him and awkwardly nearly pulled them both down to the mattress. The Joker was chuckling, giggling at him, pushing him back towards the pillows, laying him down.

Bruce was confused, until the man was laying along his back, wrapping an arm around him and holding him close. He kissed at the base of his neck, rubbed along his tender belly, the line of his navel, to the base of his cock. Bruce arched back into him, rocked his ass against his erection as the Joker stroked him quickly.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to, Brucie baby,” he cooed, kissing his hair, “Whatever you need.”

That was the first time he had said his name since ripping his cowl off.

It was the first time he had truly acknowledged Bruce as _himself_ and not the Bat.

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut, felt the stinging. What the devil was _wrong_ with him? He was sure he could only blame so much on hormones. Could only blame so much on his wretched heat.

The constricting in his chest, the ache beneath his ribs- that was something else entirely.

He took a breath, reached down and gently grasped the Joker’s wrist, pulling his hand away. Carefully he rolled over, until he was facing him, moving in so close he could feel the other man’s breath. Then he released his wrist, reaching out to wrap a hand around the base of his cock, stroking once and watching his breath hitch.

“Whatever I need?” Bruce whispered, coy, and the Joker smiled, allowing his hips a gently push towards Bruce’s hand.

“ _Anything_.”

Bruce nudged the Joker’s hand with his cock, exhaling when he wraped his fingers around it. “Kiss me.”

It was all he said. It was all he needed to. The Joker’s mouth was soft on his, tender as he kissed Bruce so sweetly his head spun- as he stroked him in the same rhythm Bruce set. The Omega whined, whimpered, pressed his tongue into the clown’s mouth and tried to shift closer, tried to crawl inside him. Be in his skin, his bones, the very core of him.

They broke for air, both gasping, foreheads pressing together. Bruce wanted to ask him if he was close- wanted to ask him to kiss him again, to say his name again. Acknowledge him as more then just Batman- as something more then everything he had ever built himself up to be.

When he did kiss him- oh, as if there was a chance he would not, as if the Joker could resist this man who looked at him with pleading dark eyes- who had gone from a lost book on a forgotten shelf to something he was reading cover to cover, pages of secrets for him to smudge with his fingerprints, to press to his mouth and taste. Oh, he would kiss him raw, kiss him until they suffocated.

He would kiss Bruce Wayne to his grave if allowed.

He pushed Bruce until his head tipped back as he ran his tongue along the angles of his teeth, as he squeezed his cock. Bruce returned the pressure, a twist of his wrist- and the Joker was groaning into his mouth first, hips jerking as he came along Bruce’s knuckles, his wrist. Thrown by it, by the fact that he swallowed the clown’s noises and that _he kept kissing Bruce through it all_ , the Omega shook, came without warning, squeezing his eyes shut as they grew hot, wet, his head spinning.

Time turned fuzzy then, to static. Bruce remembered moving, but he seemed sluggish, curling up into the clown’s arms, kissing at his neck, their legs tangling together. They lay there, Bruce turning drowsy, feeling spent from his body’s constant needs. There was still a warmth in his belly, but he could ignore it. He had so many times in the past.

The Joker was stroking his hair when he asked, “So this is your first time with anyone during your heat?” Bruce nodded, not speaking, letting his eyes drift close. The Joker chose silence as well, leaning his chin atop Bruce’s head, keeping him close as he began to drift in and out of consciousness. When the Omega was settled, sleeping, he squeezed him tightly, kissing his hair and whispering, “So you let me in,” into the emptiness of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Their sleep was brief, light, dreamless but not thoughtless, Bruce squirming in a fever, the Joker constantly pulling him closer, pressing his mouth to his temple. But eyes never opening.

Not until it was clear they were not alone.

The Joker’s eyes opened first when he heard it- far before Bruce did. Footsteps, gentle but with a direction, a sure point. Not a stranger. Carefully, he tried to untangle from the Omega, who in his sleep whined, tried to clutch onto his Alpha. It hurt to push him away, to pull from the bed. It took moments to track down his clothing, to slip into the underwear and shirt- which he left unbuttoned as he padded silently across the bedroom carpet to the door.

The Joker opened the door, slipping through it and closing it softly. He had barely turned from it when he caught the gaze of another man- older, in a well kept dark suit.

“You must be, ah, Baty boy’s baby sitter.” He grinned, mindful that his smile lacked it’s red frame- and in that moment, oddly self conscious of it.

Alfred had stopped walking, stared down at him from a few yards away. An oddly unnerving stare- hard, like sharpened rocks that both bruised and broke skin. The Joker squared his shoulders.

“What have you done with master Bruce?”

The Joker clicked his tongue, cocking his head as he studied Alfred- the way he held himself, the way the older Alpha smelled like a fight waiting to happen. He was _threatening_ the Joker, and the clown could only giggle over it.

“Nothing he didn’t invite me in for.” He took a step towards him, light on his feet. “If you want to wake sleeping beauty yourself and ask him, by all means, _go on ahead_.” He gestured back behind him with one hand. “I’m sure you’ve, ah, seen him in this state before.”

“I have,” Alfred admitted. “And had I known what he did to himself and his body to try and contain his cycles would lead to you on his doorstep, I would have had him locked up for his own good.”

“Good to know I’m, ah, rec-ognizable without my face on.” He reached up, running fingers along his scars, offering a large grin. He was the thing of nightmares indeed.

Funny how minutes ago, this part of him had felt so buried.

“I would always know your face.” Alfred was nearly sneering, stoic composure loosening around the edges. He advanced again- walked right past the Joker, and _damn if the clown didn’t find him ballsy and rather charming_ , pressed a hand to Bruce’s bedroom door. “Master Bruce,” he called, softly, and the Joker rolled his eyes, heaving a sigh and walking to him. He pushed past- though gently- and opened the door, walking directly over to the bed and crawling on, pressing a kiss to Bruce’s temple.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” he whispered, “there’s a dragon in the castle, and he demands an audience.”

Bruce’s eyelids fluttered, and he glanced past the Joker, seeing Alfred in the doorway. He scrambled then, grabbing for the sheet that was already tangled around him, trying to bury himself in it. His cheeks, which already had a pink tinge, flushed further from embarrassment.

“Alfred!” The Joker turned back to the other Alpha, grinning so his scars stretched along his cheeks.

“As you can see, I haven’t kept the princess, ah, against her will.” He leaned over, kissed Bruce’s temple again. “Why, I was _invited_ in. Tell him sugar.” He reached behind Bruce, finding a gap in the sheets and playing his fingers along his spine. Alfred was waiting, tense, and Bruce felt his throat constricting.

“It’s true,” he whispered, not looking at the Alpha, glancing instead at the floor, at his shoes. “I told you not to come. I was hoping you’d...”

“Simply miss this entire mess? Master Bruce, in all my years with you, I’m not sure I’ve seen you _ever_ be so reckless-“

“You mean the first time he dressed as a damn Bat and decided to fly around Gotham is, ah, preferable to _this_?” The Joker’s voice ended in a hiss as he gestured with his free hand. “Because I think you need to _reeval-uate_ , Jeeves.”

“I think he should leave,” he said, staring into the Joker as if he could pierce him then, skewer him and end the problem. But Bruce was shaking his head.

“No. He’s not leaving. Not until...not until it’s over.” He couldn’t bring himself to say his heat. Couldn’t really bring himself to actually admit to Alfred that he’d been intimate with this man- how different it was, he was sure, Alfred seeing him relaxed next to him. Usually he was cursing, bruised and bleeding.

Usually he was frustrated.

Because he had wanted this

Deny it all he wanted, Bruce had always wanted this.

Alfred stood his ground, silent for a minute, before his shoulders relaxed. Bruce knew there was no fight, there would be no argument. Alfred would accept his decision with gritted teeth- and come nights later, when the clown was gone and Bruce would have to live with the maelstrom of emotions and confusion he had left behind him, Alfred would disapprove. But if he judged, it would be quiet.

He loved Bruce too much to push him away, no matter how reckless he became.

“I will remain in case you need anything,” Alfred finally said, “at the other end of the manor, for your _privacy_ , Master Bruce. And I will not accept you disagreeing.”

Bruce nodded. He didn’t have any fight in him. He was still drowsy- he wanted to sleep more, before the heat in his belly grew too much again. It was there already, but he could ignore it.

No more words were exchanged, and the moment Alfred was out the door, the Joker was stripping, down to his bare skin, and slipping back under the sheets with Bruce. He wrapped an arm around him, possessively, protecting, and kissed at his neck, easing him back into the pillows.

“He wasn’t supposed to be here,” Bruce was whispering, even as the Joker calmed the very buzzing of his nerves. To think, this catastrophe could soothe him.

“It’s fine _darling_ ,” he whispered, nipping at Bruce’s ear. “I wouldn’t expect, ah, _approval_ from anyone.” He squeezed, settling in himself. “Now, I believe we were right about here when we were interrupted.”

Bruce smiled to himself, covering the Joker’s hand on his belly with his own, squeezing gently. For the moment, he wanted to be nowhere else.

*

_Screaming_ , there was so much screaming, shrieking- dying sounds escaping collapsing lungs and _everything was burning_. Bruce couldn’t feel anything except the fire, not the pain as it licked up his legs, but the very heat of it, the core, it was pushing its way into his blood. He opened his mouth to scream and inhaled the flames, singed his lungs to the point of death, and yet they still came.

The screaming was louder, shrieking, sobbing, broken and beaten and utterly pathetic. Bruce wanted to claw his ears bloody, reached up and raked nails over his face. The fire pushed into the cuts, burned his blood. He opened his mouth to scream again, to push past his burnt tongue and throat-

But all that came out was an echo of the endless, berating noise around it.

The screaming was him, endless.

He sounded like he was dying.

_Or he was already dead_.

Bruce thrashed, and the arms around him tightened, rolled him to his back as the Joker climbed over him, grabbed his wrists and pinned him to the bed. “Bats,” he hissed, as Bruce bucked them off the mattress. He growled, tightening his hold, the points of his teeth showing past his naked lips. “Bruce!”

He contemplated hitting him, a quick clip to his jaw, but the Omega’s eyes shot open and he stared, pupils dilated, panting. The Joker relaxed his hold a little. “You’re dreaming, pretty boy.”

Bruce nodded, felt sweat between his shoulder blades, in his hair. He felt hotter then he had in his dreams- and having the Joker on top of him wasn’t helping.

“Didn’t know the big bad bat had nightmares. I do hope I make appearances.” He flashed a toothy grin, and Bruce huffed, opened his mouth to speak and groaned instead, hips rocking up. The Joker’s smile fell away as Bruce’s head fell back, mouth set in a serious line. “Oh princess, is it time already?” He released one wrist, dragging finger tips along Bruce’s chest. The Omega groaned, his erection obvious to the clown- who shifted about, creating friction as best as he could. “Tell me about your dream.”

“ _Now_?” Bruce gasped, and the Joker nearly threw himself down, closing the gap between them and grabbing Bruce’s chin, tilting his head back down so he could stare into his eyes.

“No better time then the _present_ ,” he hissed, “and I do want to know how that mind of your’s works, _Bats_.”

He kissed him then, rough, pressed tongue past teeth and took Bruce’s breath away. The Omega thrashed- not against it, but trying to get closer, grasping at the Alpha and digging nails into his shoulders. This felt different then it had earlier- this felt feral.

This felt like their dances along Gotham’s skyline.

The Joker growled into his mouth, bit his lower lip with those cannibal sharp teeth, then his neck- when skin broke Bruce gave a cry, whining as the Joker lapped at the red beads that appeared from his puncture wounds. Once the spot was so tender the air nearly hurt against it, he was moving down, biting and lapping at skin that was too hot, too perfect.

Bruce was delirious, he couldn’t tell what was up, down. Barely could tell that he was even _being_ , that he could breath and control the way his fingers and toys curled in the sheets as the Joker’s body slid along his lap while he moved. A friction so sweet Bruce’s eyes grew wet.

The Joker nipped at the overly sensitive flesh of his thigh, taking Bruce’s cock in one hand to stroke. Bruce sucked in a breath, arched, spread his legs so the Joker could press two fingers into him. His head shook from side to side, too much and not enough and he was simply so sure this was it, this was the end of him.

Had he ever felt this out of his skin during a heat? He couldn’t be sure- and wasn’t even capable of such thought at this point. Everything was the fire in his belly, the knot at his spine- the wetness between his thighs and the ache in his cock.

Everything was what the Joker could do to him.

A third finger pushed into him, but it wasn’t like before, it didn’t feel enough- the nerves this gorgeous nightmare had so easily massaged before felt far away- and Bruce felt hollow, aching, needing to be filled.

“It’s not e-enough,” he gasped, fisting his hands in the sheets. There was a moment, between breath and word, where his mind could have said _no_ , as clearly as it had earlier. Where he could have denied himself, and that would have been that.

Bruce dove in head first towards the sea of thorns.

“Fuck me,” he gasped, arching as the Joker pushed so deep but just _not quite there_ , not enough. “Fuck me _please_.”

The Joker pulled away, took all contact, staring at Bruce through blonde eye lashes and stray green curls. “You said you didn’t want me to, pretty boy.”

“ _Please_.” Bruce sounded pathetic, desperate- but it was true, accurate. He felt like his insides were caving in, and the empty space they fell into hurt like hot knives. He squeezed his eyes shut, unaware just how intently the Joker was studying him, the way he tipped his head back, stretched his neck as he chewed on his lip. The way the air was hot and heavy with his pheromones, so strong that it took every bit of strength the Joker had to not fuck him into the bed, until he screamed.

But being asked to? Why, he was only given so much restraint.

He sucked on his tongue for a moment longer, then moved forward, pushing between Bruce’s thighs, his cock rubbing up along him, causing Bruce to choke on his breath.

“Last chance to say no, Brucie baby,” the Joker sang through gritted teeth, as Bruce lifted his legs, hooking them around the Joker’s hips and hissing,

“ _Yes_.”

The Joker bared the points of his teeth and pushed into Bruce in a single thrust, all the way inside until Bruce’s flesh was pressed so tightly against his that they could have been fused. Bruce let out a howl, the emptiness inside him suddenly gone, every nerve alive and breathing and screaming and burning. The Alpha didn’t hesitate, thrust in and out of Bruce’s _oh-so willing_ body to a fierce rhythm, one that left Bruce arching and sobbing, tears streaking down his cheeks as he fought simply to breathe.

Simply to not die right in that moment.

The Joker clawed at Bruce’s sides, hips, trying to hold him as the Omega’s legs squeezed. He was constricting around him, he was hot, he was slick- he was the willing and waiting mouth of every wet dream to ever grace his pillows. He was causing the Joker’s senses to cave in- his sensitivity already at a naturally hyper aware state- but now, now he felt every prick of air on every pore, the tug of every hair on his scalp, the points of each and every tooth against his tongue and cheeks.

He was surprised he wasn’t spent with that initial thrust.

“Fuck!” Bruce was nearly screaming, stomach flexing as he tried to rock his hips with the Joker’s rhythm. His cock was flushed, leaking against his belly, his sides striped with red claw marks.

The Joker grasped his thighs, forcing them open, so he could pull out. Bruce cursed him when he did- fierce and guttural, not the pretty rich boy but the _big bad bat_ and the Joker shivered with delight. Seeing the two melding into one right before his eyes was utterly _divine_.

He tried to roll Bruce over, onto his belly, and the Omega squirmed, slipping on the sheets, shoving his ass up and back to grind against the Alpha. The Joker’s eyes nearly rolled back, sharp nails digging into supple flesh and he was back inside him, fucking Bruce so that his screams were muffled by the pillows, so that his cock leaked onto the sheets and he could reach out and drag his nails along his exquisite spine.

The Joker was so close, felt so much pressure at the base of his spine it was as if all of Gotham had settled there. He leaned over Bruce, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him up, hissing almost directly into his ear, “C’mon pretty boy, show me how you come undone.”

Then he bit Bruce, teeth sinking in against to his neck, along the side, as if he needed to brand him. But the action only left Bruce to scream himself hoarse, his body convulsing around his lover as he came, his cock splashing his own belly pearly white. He could feel the Joker seeming to swell more, his knot growing, filling him-

But there was something else, something stringing between them, like raw lines connecting, sparks beginning to take hold, to draw current. The Omega was dizzy, his vision spinning as the Alpha continued to fuck him, drive into him until he saw nothing but white and he was screaming with his second orgasm, feeling the Joker shaking behind him, feeling his insides growing hot as the clown came-

_Fuck_ , it was inside him, searing and perfect and Bruce couldn’t stand the thought, it was too much- and then his body was stretching, the Joker’s knot pushing inside him, tangling the two together. Bruce lost his hold on the sheets, collapsed, gasping for air as the Alpha managed his fall more gently, careful to hurt neither of them as he forced Bruce onto his side, forced his fingers past his lips to pry his jaw open.

“ _Breathe_ ,” he whispered, dragging those fingers down the Omega’s throat, and Bruce chocked on a sob, his cheeks salty-wet, his body an utter mess. A disgrace to the self he knew only a day prior.

He felt oddly beautiful in that moment though, to be completely undone- to have this man connected to him. The Joker’s body curled around his own so perfectly- and he swore he could hear the buzzing of his thoughts. Not clear, there were no words, but a gentle _hum_ , like a faded lullaby. It was soothing.

Bruce leaned his head back, against the Joker’s chest. He was exhausted, despite having just woken up, he felt he could sleep through damn near half the next day. And with the Alpha’s knot inside him, he was beginning to think he might get the chance to.

*

The Joker woke first, to cool air at his back and Bruce’s soothing heat against his chest. His knot had receded, and with a gentle kiss to Bruce’s shoulder, he pulled his hips back, freeing himself from that body. Bruce whined in his sleep, but otherwise made not a sound.

He left him there, tucked into the warm sheets, slumbering peacefully, dressed in what little of Bruce’s clothing he had worn that day, and slipped from the room. His foot steps were quiet as he walked- he was light on his feet, always had been, would be until the day he died. It would surely have a hand in whatever killed him.

He had no true aim in wondering around the manor in the dark. Simply wanted to put his hands on things, run fingers along the walls, leave behind prints that Bruce could never erase. Might never ever even find.

Down the stairs and in one of the sitting rooms, he found himself staring out a large bay window, into a world dissolved in blackness, with only hints of star light, speckled like cancer. There was nothing there, but that nothing seemed to fit, seemed to be what his eyes need to lock on.

This time yesterday, he had been tossing gasoline on cars. This time yesterday, he’d been waiting for the terrifying big bad bat to come and knock him into his place. He’d expected his creature of wet nightmares, that heavy fist that fit his jaw and ribs to well, that body over him. Why, it was exquisite in the most vile way-

And now that image was gone, corrupted. Now the Batman of night terrors was nothing but Bruce Wayne, curled within his own plush bed, hot with heat, sweet smelling and needy. And hard as he try, if the Joker closed his eyes, whatever he dredged up of the Bat was not the same- the Alpha scent was gone, a lie, now he knew why it had always perplexed him, seemed too much.

That thing of nightmares was gone, buried in a shallow grave so that the Joker was tormented by it, by the knowledge that it was so close, just below the center- yet it was nothing but a well constructed lie.

“I don’t believe Master Bruce would care for you wondering around his home.”

The Joker didn’t turn to face Alfred. He simply continued to stare out, into the emptiness. Alfred hesitated a moment, before advancing towards him, directly to the Joker’s side, following his eyes outside.

“You can’t see anything,” the clown mused. “In the city, the nights aren’t like this. There’s always something burning right into your retina, something you don’t want to see.” He folded his arms, closing himself off. “I’m not touching anything, _old chap_ , don’t worry. I can be a good boy.”

“Your track record would show that’s a lie.” The Joker chuckled, glancing at Alfred finally.

“I think I like you,” he admitted, tilting his head slightly to better take him in. “You’re _ballsy_. I like that.”

The Joker was given only a stare back, but the shock was there, behind a film of control.

“Bruce isn’t going to take this well, when he is...himself again.” Alfred looked back out the window as he spoke, at the nothing that transfixed the Joker so. “You’re the thing of his nightmares.”

“I’m _flattered_.” He clicked his tongue. “But I know. The big bad bat won’t be too thrilled.” He shifted, trying to pull into himself more. “He’ll just have to, ah, come to terms with it.” Alfred nodded, seeming to have relaxed in the other Alpha’s presence slightly. From the corner of his eye, he could study him. The finely set face, the discolored scarring-

There was something open about him in that moment. A look like one he could swear Bruce had worn.

“I’m going to trust you won’t burn the manor down if I leave you,” Alfred finally offered, “considering that would end your... _fun_ rather prematurely.”

“Bruce’s heat will be done tomorrow,” the Joker whispered, “I can feel it. _Smell it_. Are they always so short?”

“He has messed with his natural cycle for a rather long time. Some are short, some are long. It is hard to say.” The clown nodded.

“He had a patch on his leg-“

“High grade suppressants. Master Bruce seems to find he has no time to deal with his nature. Nor does he want anyone very _conscious_ of it.” Alfred sighed. “I have no reason to be telling you this.”

“I think I’ve earned the knowledge, if I’m pretty boy’s first.” He glanced at the other Alpha, who averted his eyes. The conversation obviously unnerved him. “He’ll destroy himself if he keeps it up.”

“Don’t you think I’ve told him that?” Alfred shook his head- unbelieving that he was agreeing with the Joker _of all men_ , before taking a step away. “But that’s enough of that. If Master Bruce wishes to share more of this information with you, that will be on him. Do keep him comfortable tonight.”

When he left, the Joker felt the room turn hallow again.

He stood there for hours or minutes, centuries or seconds, before finally breathing in one last breath of that empty room, of the silence and solace within it, and making his way back through the manor. Back to Bruce.

The Omega was still sleeping, curled upon himself, but the moment the Joker settled his weight into the bed he was shifting, rolling onto his back and opening his dark eyes.

“Did you go somewhere?” He didn’t sound concerned, only sleepy. The Joker inhaled- held in the breath of air that lacked a sweet taste, a heat. He wanted to reach out and feel Bruce’s skin, but he didn’t dare.

“Not far,” he whispered, and Bruce was pressing into him, face to chest, an arm around his waist. He felt cool, the hum in his blood having gone down to only silence. He felt _stable_.

A twenty-four hour heat wasn’t completely unheard of, but the Joker had hoped he might have gotten another day. It seemed his luck had run out. He was sure, come dawn, it would be purged from Bruce’s system, and reality would settle into his heavy chest.

The Joker ran his fingers through Bruce’s hair, had the Omega nearly purring. His other hand gripped Bruce’s chin, tilted his head up slightly, seeking out his mouth and kissing him gently. Bruce accepted it, gripping at his biceps, tangling their legs together. He rocked against the clown, slowly, seeming to drag his skin against the man, creating a sharp ache so deep inside the Joker that he felt like a cavern- endless.

Bruce nipped at the man’s lips, flicked his tongue, begged entrance. The Joker squeezed his eyes shut, gave it to him, tried to pull back into his skin, into his veins, his bones and marrow. Needed to have this but needed to be so far away from it.

It was the end of everything.

Bruce still tasted like everything, like spiced honey and that little hallucination that always begged in the corner of the Joker’s eyes. He tasted like infinity, like desire, like _home_.

Like every dream the Joker had ever dared to have, of all he had ever wanted of his Bat.

He was rolling them over, pulling Bruce onto him, the Omega easily straddling him, kissing faster, fiercer. Bruce was getting wet and he could feel it, wanted it, wanted one more round before this all became a lunacy.

Bruce broke the kiss, rearing up in the dark and grinding down, grinning with his white teeth and those gorgeous dark eyes. “I like it up here,” he breathed, and the Joker’s cock twitched, swelling with every second Bruce straddled him. Bruce felt it, smiled more, reaching down and grasping the base of the clown’s cock, holding him steady. The Joker reached out, trying to guide him- knowing what Bruce was doing and aching for it to start and for it to end- watched as he sank down onto his cock, his hole wet and waiting.

He tipped his head back, arching his back as he gripped at the bed. Bruce was groaning, biting at his lower lip as he lifted himself carefully. He leaned slightly, placed a hand on the Joker’s belly to help steady himself, pushing back down onto the Alpha’s cock. The Joker tried to sit up as Bruce moved, reaching for him, forcing him to grab his shoulders as they shifted, as he went for Bruce’s mouth again.

He wanted to kiss him endlessly.

He wanted to kiss him until his lips had melted like he’d bathed in acid.

Bruce whined into his mouth, the two grinding more then thrusting, the Omega enjoying the connection, sinking his hands into the Joker’s curls as he clung to him. The clown kept his eyes squeezed shut, felt them burning. He wanted to hold Bruce there forever, keep him connected to him, settle him under skin, up inside the hallows of his ribs.

The Omega’s cock was between them, their bodies creating enough friction that neither needed to reach down. Their hands were better suited for tangling in hair, clawing at shoulders. The Joker kissed along Bruce’s jawline, loved the way he gulped down air.

In the dark, he could see the red and purple of the bite wound he’d left during their previous fuck. He stared for a moment, transfixed, swore he felt the Omega’s heartbeat in the air, felt the _static hum_ between them again.

The floodgates were opening, and the Joker wanted to drown. He pressed his mouth to the other side of Bruce’s neck, nipped and sucked but did not break skin, enjoyed every whine he pulled from the man’s mouth.

“I can feel you,” Bruce whispered, baring his throat as best as he could. The Joker chuckled against his pulse, and Bruce half smiled. “Not- _ah_ ,” he gasped, the Joker pushing harder up into him, “not that. You’re in my head.”

“In your blood,” the Joker mused, and the words hurt him. “ _Shut me out_.”

“What?” Bruce was sure he hadn’t heard him- maybe he had imagined the man speaking all together. But the Joker was biting at his throat, wanting so badly to pull back, away- but he _couldn’t_ , this was too much. Everything he wanted. So close, there for the taking.

“ _Shut me out_!” He bit again, broke skin, and Bruce cried out, his chest swelling. It felt like a needle was being pushed into his mind, between his eyes, and it was hot, _screaming_ , dipped in acid and smeared with laughter. And the further it went, the more he swore there were two heartbeats echoing in his head.

The Joker pulled away, forcing himself from Bruce’s abused neck, seeking his mouth again. He could feel Bruce’s confusion, and it hurt, it hurt to force himself to pull back, when he could have _had_ him. Had him forever.

Bruce whimpered into the kiss, close, and the Joker grabbed at his hips, helping him move, pushing deeper into him. He tried to forget who this was, how much this Omega had meant to him since the day he fell into that acid, since the day he was truly born. He tried to think only of sensation, only of the knot in his belly, of the heat of Bruce’s body-

He tried not to give the Omega a name.

Bruce cried into his mouth when he finally came, trembling around him, clutching onto the Alpha as if he may fall off the edge of reality if he didn’t. The Joker swallowed it, locked it up tight inside his chest, allowing his own release, his knot to swell inside the Omega one last time. His own arms had wound around Bruce, clutching at his back, his shoulder blades, keeping him from pulling away.

Not that the Omega tried.

Bruce kissed the corner of the Joker’s mouth, lips on sensitive scar tissue, reaching fingers up to lightly play over them, as if trying to learn them.

“I thought they’d be ugly,” he whispered, his voice heavy. He was drowsy, the Joker could feel it still. The strings binding them were still tight. “But they’re _not_.”

He didn’t say any more, dared to kiss the very end of one, and the Joker closed his eyes, telling himself the sting in the corner of his eyes was simply laughter building, building, and bubbling over.

*

Bruce stretched, slowly becoming aware of his limbs. He curled his toes in his sheets, dragging himself up from sleep until he could feel every muscle again. He gave a final stretch, rolling from his side to his back, expecting a warm arm to move over him, expecting curves that fit perfectly in line with his own-

All he received were empty sheets. He sat up, quickly, glancing around his room, but it felt ghost like, unmoving. Slumbering still, like the whole house.

The Joker’s clothing was gone- the shirt he had worn of Bruce’s thrown casually over a chair. Tossing the blankets aside, Bruce stumbled naked over, grabbing it, running his fingers over fabric and thread.

Within minutes he was out of his room, attempting to appear calm as he rushed about in his underwear and that shirt. It smelled like the Alpha, settled on Bruce’s skin like eager hands.

He was half way down the stairs when Alfred appeared, glancing up at him and offering a tentative smile. “Good morning, Master Bruce.”

“He’s gone.”

The smile dropped away, and Alfred gave a sigh. “This shocks you?”

“He didn’t have to go.” He made his way down the rest of the stairs, glancing about the room.

“You would have him stay beyond his use?”

“What are you talking about?” He looked almost like a child then, searching for a hidden present. It was painful.

“You brought him here for a reason, Master Bruce. A desperate reason. It seems your...heat has ended. Thus, so has his use. Perhaps it’s for the best.”

Bruce stopped moving, staring out through this room, towards one of the sitting rooms. Yes, yes he _had_ brought him here for a reason, because he was desperate and needy and had driven himself to his breaking point. Because he had fought off nature for so long that when she came crashing back into his life, he clutched at whatever had been closest.

But was there more? Bruce didn’t accept it, couldn’t- there were too many nights, too many rooftop dances and love-bruises and dreams swept up in painted lips and pointed scars. Too much of his life revolved around this painted clown., this tattered Mona Lisa of a man.

It made his chest ache.

Alfred was walking over, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on Bruce’s shoulder. As he did, he noticed the bruises on his neck, the small tears in flesh left by expert teeth, and his gentle grip tightened.

“Master Bruce,” he said, his voice wavering- only slightly, but that it happened at all had Bruce glancing back at him. “Master Bruce, did he...”

“Did he what?” Bruce frowned. “What? _Fuck me_? Don’t be shocked since that seems to have been the whole point.” Bruce’s voice was sharp, but Alfred frowned at him, not needing the vulgarity.

“Your physical intimacy is your own business, _sir_. But perhaps you should refresh your memory on basic Alpha-Omega relationships.”

Alfred left him then, to drown in his own thoughts. Bruce waited until he was gone, then made his way to the sitting room, flopping down on one of the chairs and staring out the bay window. Outside, the sky had split for the bright sun, giving everything a lush green and golden hue. Warm, he was sure.

He reached up, touching one of the bite marks carefully, wincing at the pain. It hadn’t hurt then- not as badly as he might have expected. Then again, he might have a bit of a thing for pain, if he considered how wet he’d gotten in the past when the Joker was throwing him down against hard concrete.

Touching them made him feel hallow, like his heart was echoing through his body. Like his blood and guts had been removed, all he had was skin to enclose, bone for structure.

He closed his eyes, inhaled slowly. Missed the way it felt to have those hands on him. In his hair, he’d liked that, the way terrifying fingers grew tender. He liked the way when those teeth had found his neck, when he’d been filled to the brim, that he could feel the other man’s heartbeat, the pump of blood through veins, almost hear the cranks turning inside his skull-

Bruce’s eyes snapped open, his hands dropping from his neck to his lap. He glanced down at it, and wondered just how deep the clown’s finger prints were inside him.

*

He had stayed in the shadows for days. He’d tried to scrub Bruce’s scent from his skin. He’d tried to tell himself he had dreamt up the entire thing- had crafted a story so wild that it fit into his life _just so_.

But it hadn’t worked. Reality cracked in, reminded him exactly how Bruce’s mouth had felt, how his hair had smelled. Told him that he _wasn’t crazy_ , oh no, they just liked to claim he was. He knew better, he refuted it- and he couldn’t use it was a blanket now.

He didn’t come back with fireworks, with gasoline and gunpowder and a heist. He settled on the roof of an old, abandoned building in the narrows and simply _existed_ in the late night, the early morning. He breathed in cool night air and he thought about how alive he was when he and his Bat had their dances- but how _right_ it had been, waking up in Bruce Wayne’s bed.

He heard the rustle of fabric before he saw him, the gentle landing of boots on the roof. He never turned from the skyline, didn’t acknowledge his Bat as Bruce made his way across the roof to where he sat, settled down next to him as if they were _old friends_.

In a way, they were.

He glanced at him, through the corner of his eyes, saw Bruce doing the same thing. “Not used to _awkward morning afters_ , pretty boy? I’d, ah, think you were.”

“I didn’t ever expect there to be one with you.” The clown chuckled, glancing back at the skyline. “What are you doing here?”

“This is _my_ city Batsy baby, no matter what you think.”

“I mean...right here. I guess I expected to find you with a bit more...flare.” The Joker chuckled again, low in his throat and chest, a gentle rumble.

“Sometimes, _Bats_ , even the lunatics want to be alone with their thoughts.” He glanced over at him. “And if I didn’t breathe, I’d suffocate in your memory.”

Bruce looked away, obviously unsure how to take that. The Joker didn’t care. He wasn’t bitter, but he could feel it, in sorrow, along the edges. He could be. He could be very easily, if he wasn’t careful. And he was sure it’d be best, to be bitter. He loved the Bat, down to his core- and love could easily be hate. His was so often mistaken for it.

“You didn’t have to leave,” Bruce finally said, watching the skyline, a shade lighter now. Dawn would be coming. He had put this off too long- he had to be Bruce again, soon. The Bat would need to retire. “You...you could have been there, when I woke up.”

“You didn’t need me to be. Your little _heat spell_ was done. I could tell.”

“How?”

“Call it intuition. Call it the blessing of Alpha senses and the curse of hyper sensitivity. Call it whatever the fuck you want, pretty boy. I know you, skin and bone. I knew.” Bruce frowned.

“Well, still. I...I wanted to wake up to you there.” The Joker rolled his eyes, leaning back on his hands.

“You like nightmares that much Bat boy?”

“Maybe I was starting to like you that much.” The clown glanced through blonde lashes, and Bruce was looking at him, smiling, small but genuine. “Take this city out of you, and you’re not as crazy.”

“Can’t take the city out of me, dollface. Just like I can’t take it outta _you_. I exhale Gotham’s fumes. If you’re going to feed me some _I can change you _bullshit, you’re wasting your precious time.” Bruce’s smile dropped away.__

__“I’m not. I know better. But...” he paused, shook his head and leaned forward, huffing._ _

__“Spit it out Bats, I have to be back underground by daylight, or I turn back into a pumpkin.”_ _

__Bruce shot a glance at him, but the Joker was grinning, and suddenly Bruce was _laughing_ , so much so he smiled, his cheeks pulling until they hurt. He shook his head, trying to stop, and when the Joker leaned back forward he reached for him, grabbing his arm and pulling him closer, pressing his smiling mouth to the corner of his scars._ _

__“The fact that you made me laugh tells me I’m crazy,” he whispered, “but the fact that you...you could have bonded with me, and didn’t- that tells me you’re _not_.” Any amusement on the Joker’s face was gone then, even tho Bruce held his smile._ _

__“You didn’t seem to understand _in the moment_.”_ _

__“I didn’t. Not until you were gone.” He reached up, rubbing at his neck through his suit. “I didn’t know what you meant...shut you out. I do. Now.”_ _

__“You were shit at it, Bats.”_ _

__“Maybe I wanted to be.” Bruce shrugged a shoulder. “In the heat of things...well, having you in my head was better then being with myself.”_ _

__“You’d regret it.” The Joker reached up, absently tracing the line of Bruce’s cowl. “You’d regret it all, pretty boy.”_ _

__“I regret a lot of things. At least it’d be an enjoyable regret.” Bruce reached up, caught his wrist, turned to kiss his palm. “Would I get boring as just _Bruce Wayne_?”_ _

__He smiled. He hadn’t meant to, but Bruce’s dark eyes were endearing, the feel of his lips sweet and familiar. “Never boring, pretty boy. Just a _different_ type of exciting.” He leaned closer. “Could you handle knowing what I am, seeing it every day?”_ _

__“What are you?”_ _

__“ _Painfully sane_.” He leaned in, pressing his mouth to Bruce’s, and the Omega grabbed at the lapels of his jacket, groaning, yielding. The Joker pushed against his cowl, expecting a shock, yet received none as he pushed it back, revealing dark hair which he sank his fingers into._ _

__“Come back home with me,” Bruce whispered into his mouth, “it’s lonely in my head without you.”_ _

__The Joker could have said no. He could have said anything, any witty crude joke, any denial, any bitter laced remark to cut deep into the man._ _

__He said nothing, chose silence as he kissed Bruce again, against the light of the rising sun and Gotham’s now bright skyline. He dragged him down as he fell on his back, as Bruce loomed over him until the two were dizzy from lack of breath. And when they broke, Bruce only whispered,_ _

__“Is that a yes?”_ _

__The Joker laughed, his sing-song-along giggle, punching Bruce in his shoulder, but linking one leg along his._ _

__“You’re dense, _Mr. Wayne_. We’ll have to work on that.” Bruce smiled, felt the pricking of that needle between his eyes again. Far less intense then earlier, but there- that string of laughter lacing in with his own thoughts. He’d never felt it before, with anyone- could only wonder if this man had? What about the other Omega- Bruce knew there was another, the Joker had said _he wasn’t the first_ -_ _

__Or had he lied? He knew from experience his words were only half true more often then not- and maybe it was all simply a fabrication, a bed time story. Maybe he’d simply been so in tune with Bruce that he _knew_ \- but couldn’t admit it._ _

__Maybe he was under his skin far before either could have seen it._ _

__“Take me home, Bats,” he finally whispered, kissing the corner of Bruce’s mouth affectionately. “I’ve been out all night and I do need my, ah, beau-ty sleep.”_ _

__“Some of us have things we have to do during the day,” Bruce pointed out, even as he pushed himself up, extended a hand to pull his Alpha up as well. He pulled his cowl back over his head, adjusting it as the Joker rolled his too-green eyes._ _

__“And some of us don’t look kid-friendly during the day. I don’t think I make a good _accessory_ for Bruce Wayne. Batman though, why he’s another story.”_ _

__“I think Bruce Wayne could pull you off,” he teased, rubbing his chin. “You do wear a suit well. And after all, he’s had his fair share of scandal. Taking up with Gotham’s Clown Prince of Crime can’t be the worst thing there is for him.”_ _

__The Joker laughed, one last, rich sound, the stuff of nightmares and sweet, _sweet_ daydreams._ _

__“We’ll just see about that, Bruce,” he offered, and that was all there could be. They couldn’t do more then wait to see what the show brought them._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers to everyone who made it through. Coming back to these two with an Omegaverse "AU" was probably not the smartest move, but hopefully I can find my voice again because of it.


End file.
